Conflicted Speech
by ilybakura
Summary: Alfred, an exchange student, thought he was going to have a perfect experience in the city of London until he came across an Englishman who had a grudge that dated 200 years before. [[ Warning: Racial insults, do not read if you have a problem with it. ]]


[[ This was written for a writing competition at my school. I cheated and wrote about my OTP. Unfortunately, it isn't_ too_ gay. It's not very well done and I wasn't nominated to go in the short magazine but it was a runner's up. (:

I don't own anything and I'm sorry if this seems offensive. I am not from America or Britain, and my knowledge was limited.

Hetalia; AU (Alfred F. Jones – America & Arthur Kirkland – England)

Enjoy. ]]

-OoO-

_Alfred, an exchange student, thought he was going to have a perfect experience in the city of London until he came across an Englishman who had a grudge that dated 200 years before. _

-OoO-

The sky was bluer than ever, as blue as the eyes of a young American man standing outside in front of a golden tower, the clocks time piece ticking away with every passing minute. It was cold and windy. Even though the sky was blue, clouds were beginning to obstruct the view and the sun; hiding it and making it begin to darken. Many people all ages and sizes bustled by, trying to get away to shade. They knew it was about to rain. Cars zoomed past on the grey endless road, leading towards the town further up ahead and Alfred knew he had to catch a taxi sooner or later. Interest, however, kept him standing in front the large tower meters before him.

Alfred's hair stayed still though it was windy, since most of it was gelled from many products he found in London. A pair of glasses perched on his nose tight, like a parrots claw clinging on a tree branch. Standing tall at around 6'foot, the tourist flexed his arms; his overweight bag was incredibly painful on his broad shoulders. An HD camera hung low around his neck, a gift from a good friend back in the U.S. Alfred was planning on using it to take pictures of the biggest buildings he could find in England while he was on his students exchange.

A drop of rain fell from the sky, falling lightly against his cheek. Quickly, he stepped back, careful not to bump against the dark bodies of the residents of London. They looked busy and passed by hurriedly, not noticing Alfred's unusual brand of clothing. It always rained in London, so it wasn't a big surprise to the walkers, as they already had big coal coloured umbrellas. Alfred grimaced when he heard a rumble of thunder far off in the distance, signalling that he really had to get a move on.

"Aw," he muttered. "I should've gotten myself an umbrella."

No one noticed his mutterings, everyone else went by, content with themselves. Alfred checked his watch for the time, before bursting out with laughter when he realised his stupidity. There was a clock high up nearly touching the clouds right in front of him, how stupid could he get? His eyes shut with the force of his bellow and upon opening his cerulean orbs, he saw a male standing a little bit from him. The stranger looked at him like he was a mutant from the underworld; or rather he sprung three heads. Alfred felt a little uncomfortable from his stare and just gave him a grin.

The stranger was shorter than Alfred was. His hair was blond like dull hay and his eyes were a sharp piercing Islamic green, it was striking like a sword. Three wrinkling lines were centred between two blond ash eyebrows; his left hand was holding his umbrella handle tightly, making his hand pale though the stranger looked sickly pale all over.

And not impressed.

Alfred's grin faltered into a frown.

"What?" he asked.

The stranger waved his empty hand at him in an agitated manner. "You're American?"

"Yeah, I am," he said proudly, looking bright and cheerful in the drab weather. "Born and bred!"

Once again, the stranger didn't look amused and his lips tightly pressed before he replied smartly, "I can tell."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" When he transferred to London, he thought everybody would ignore him. He slipped his thumbs underneath his bags straps and adjusted the weight again as he rocked on his heal.

The Englishman shook his head, pushing his dark umbrella upwards so people passing by who were taller than him wouldn't get their heads hit. "Depends how you view it, _American_," spat the stranger, his spit almost flying like a stone in a catapult from how his lips curled in disgust.

Alfred snorted. "Wow, Mister, whoever you are, you're bein' a bit rude! What've I ever done to you?" he exclaimed, the rain beginning to pick up and falling heavily against the ground, making the light grey rock soak in the moisture and turn darker in shade. The American wasn't looking for a fight, but he really disapproved of strangers being offensive and judge mental over something that wasn't his fault!

"Rather, what your country has done to us." The stranger looked very angry. His cheeks went bright red, imitating an apple. "Long back before I was born," he snarled. The stranger was quite aggravated.

Alfred straightened up, his eyes clouded over in shock as he looked down slightly to see the stranger getting himself worked up over something he suspected was over years and years ago. Back in 1776. Alfred could not understand why this stranger was getting himself into a tipsy.

"What? If this is all about the freakin' war then calm down, dude. If I remember correctly from my history class, your British ass wouldn't even exist if it weren't for us Americans in World War 2!"

The stranger watched Alfred, his eyes sharpening before he abruptly looked away, looking at the clock standing to their left. It was more than that, there was a reason. The rain continued to cover the air with its heavy watery sheets. Alfred watched him, his own stare a pointed glare. It wasn't quiet; the people passing by were loud and ignoring. Finally, the stranger looked back at him, his nose pointed high as if he were looking down at him like a minor even though he was shorter.

"I ought to be going. Goodbye, _American_." With that saying, he trudged off.

Alfred couldn't even begin to piece together what just happened. Forgetting everything about the large clock tower for a moment, he turned on his foot to see where the stranger was, but he was gone and out of sight. Alfred frowned and rubbed the back of his head, turning back around, lifting his camera up in his hands and snapped a gloomy picture of the tower.

-OoO-

Arthur swapped his umbrella to his right hand, his right palm muscles were sore from gripping around the plastic so tightly. He couldn't help but feel angry towards the stranger he encountered three hours ago and quite frankly, it was showing in his actions. The way he roughly tossed his trash into a bin, how he cursed when a car drove past and drenched him from head to foot in dirty puddle water. The way he carelessly shut his umbrella, breaking it and storming inside a lone coffee shop. The whole time a thundercloud was over his head, even when he ordered himself a spot of tea.

It had been raining all day and it matched his mood, annoyed and out of his mind with the fact he saw an American. Why was he so mad about it though?

He shouldn't have been so judgemental. All his life he was taught that the Americans were no good by his parents. Someone dear to him was killed by one and he would never forget the day. Arthur's mature side knew he had over reacted and made himself look like the foolish one. Not only did his family make him believe they were good for nothing, he personally didn't like them. Their food, their speech, and Arthur hated how the Queen's English was altered. But even so, he never met an American till that day. He was highly grounded in his culture.

Tossing his broken umbrella onto an empty booth by the window, he then took a seat, his body slacking heavily against the red leather. He could feel the warmth of the café against his face but it felt displeasing. He felt sticky with rain water and guilt. But as if he was to see the young lad again…

"You!"

Arthur jolted in his seat, looking shocked. He frowned, his eyes narrowed. "Me, what?" He recognized the other and all thoughts of apologising were quickly washed away. 

"Yeah! We have some unfinished business!" The blue eyed American sat on the opposite side of Arthur's booth, his fist connecting to the table hard. "I never thought I'd see ya again! What was with before?"

Arthur stared shockingly at the other; his eyes could have fallen out of his head from how surprised he was. The café had fallen silent from stranger's outburst and it made Arthur feel embarrassed. The hum of the café started again and the people went on with themselves with neither man moved to say anything. Life in London was boring, dull, and tedious and Arthur knew that from his 21 years of living there.

"Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"

Arthur turned his wandering gaze towards the other, his usual frowning features settled out like he'd been ironed in the face. "I heard you loud and clear the first time. What is it you want?"

The other looked taken back by what he said. As if he didn't expect the calm tone, and placid appearance. "Dude, you can't just drop it! I want an apology!"

A coil of anger whipped straightened out in Arthur's gut, stiffening, hardening and making it unbearable to hold back. All he wanted to do was lurch out and hit him with his anger. Getting worked up made him unsteady. He didn't see why he had to say sorry to this Yank. "Excuse me!" he scoffed, "I do what I want. Also, when speaking, stop making shortcuts with your words!"

Even though Arthur's anger was loud, he found himself sounding like a mere whisper compared to Alfred. "That was like so hypocritical! I'm speakin' like I always do!" snapped the American. "I'm not English like you, I speak American!" He couldn't help but yell back at him. Once again, the café fell silent, almost to the point where it was deafening. "This is how I talk!"

"Would you please be quiet, everyone is staring." Arthur felt more embarrassed. Their stares were way too bold and serious, piercing through him like a carving knife. He had always hated stares, ever since he was a young child, the attention from family and friends were enough.

"Fine," Alfred snubbed snootily as he crossed his arms, his chest deflating with a sigh. "What's the deal then? I mean, I don't know you and never touched your family, so why the commotion?"

"It's complicated…" Arthur sighed as he stared at the other, his eyes falling distant where he was staring but not focusing. He didn't know anything about the lad and really had no place to get angry. It was his fault he disturbed this man (who he believed looked childish), but he couldn't see himself telling him what he thought.

"What you mean? I still wanna know the deal is."

"Deal?" the Englishman replied slowly, his lips were slow and stayed as an 'o' as he asked.

"Yeah, you were pointin' your finger at me like some sort of freak, then went ahead and mentioned- look, you went'll crazy with war and I dunno know what it's gotta do with me. I wasn't born yet, dummy."

"Do not call me a dummy, erm, uh…" Arthur fell short of words again, he still didn't know the others name.

The other ran a hand through his hair, his facial expression looking calm but Arthur had guessed he was really trying to strangle him with his mind. "Alfred, the name's Alfred, by the way."

"Alright, Alfred, if you want to address me, it would be Arthur, not 'dummy'."

Alfred dropped his hand and rubbed his cheek with his open palm, his youthful face looking exhausted. Arthur would think that he was getting tired from the warm air of the fans spinning and circulating. "Arthur, huh, okay, hey! You're gettin' me distracted!" He leaned further in towards the table, lowering his voice. "So what's up?" 

The Englishman wanted to sigh and groan at the same time. His head was pounding from frustration and fatigue; it was getting all too much. "Nothing is up."

"Nah, don't believe you." Alfred snickered. "If it is about the war, I can give you plenty of statements that can prove to you that Amer-," he was quickly cut off talking when Arthur groaned loudly, and then hid his head into his palms. Alfred quirked an eyebrow, "You okay, man?"

"I regret everything," muttered Arthur as he lifted his head and rested it against his arm that settled against the table. "Like I said, it's complicated. If you must know, I never really approved Americans."

"What?! Why?!" exclaimed Alfred. "We're awesome people!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "This is the reason why I don't like them. You think you're a God send." He paused quick, making the air cut short and thin. "English for example. There is one way of spelling and American's go ahead and pull out the fucking U from favourite, colour, harbour and mum."

"It's unnecessary, that's why!" exclaimed Alfred. "We never hear the U; we just made it make more sense."

"I beg to differ," snorted Arthur, crossing his arms. "Not only does the language get slandered, but even the game cricket. What is this _baseball_ anyway? A cheap cut out from the original game of cricket? It's stupid."

"It's the American way. We don't wanna copy 'cause we're individuals, we're free! Freedom man! W-Why do you find that so offensive?" Alfred glared again, but seemed triumphant when he saw that Arthur was looking lost. And so he was, Arthur felt stuck, like he was standing in mud with the loss of words. But Alfred had a lot more to say. "Baseball is a ton funner too, with three bases and a home while you guys just run back and forth like some programmed…thing!" he ranted, his cheeks blowing out as he tried to concoct a word to insult him but landed with nothing. "From where I grew up, everyone treated each other with respect, no matter where you came from or what language you speak. That's the best thing about American's- we're more welcoming than snooty Englishmen."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Arthur, his hands clenched tightly. He loved the game cricket; he played it all the time with his family when the sun shone (when it rarely did). At the age of 7, he and his older sister Chloe and younger brother Alistair would run around like there was nothing wrong with the world and the grass had been green and the trees were full of leaves that shimmered in the sun and glowed with dew drops from the morning's frost. Cricket was a boring game but when with family, it was the most interesting and exciting thing in the world. But Alfred knew nothing of that and the Arthur wasn't going to tell him of his past.

A young woman approached them silent as the night with a white notepad in one hand and a new sharpened pencil in the other. "Um… Would you two sirs like to order something?"

Quick to speak, Alfred turned to face her with a banana shaped smile. "I'll have a coffee! My buddy here would like some British tea!"

"What?!" Arthur shook his head. "I'll have Earl Grey, thank you." He sent a glare Alfred's way. With a snort, Arthur uncrossed his arms and settled his palms onto his lap where he squeezed tightly. He heaved a calm breath, his mind concocting around the fact he and this teen were acting like children. So the best way to end it was too sever it in the middle. "Why don't we talk like gentlemen?"

There was an awkward silence where Alfred just sat there with a dopey confused expression. He looked like a lost child even though he was going into his adult years. Finally he just threw his hands in the air, clasping his head and hair with his fingers.

"Well, uh, okay…" He looked like he was going to add something further onto it, but really just lost his words. His hands ran down his head, his hair staying exactly the same because of the hair products. Arthur changed his mind often, quick to get away from the topics that made him awkward. He thought too much and spoke what he finally concludes. He just had too much of a raging war in himself.

"Thank you."

It was settled quietly, neither one said a word to each other. The café milled around like the usual, always the same, and always repetitive. In a way, Alfred was the only thing that made it different, and reminded Arthur of Alistair, his little brother, loud, wild and rough when standing up for something and he would jump right into it and try to solve it. Childish, really. And that's what Alfred was; simply a child to him.

The woman returned to the two men, their steaming drinks were placed onto the table with a quiet clatter.

"Thank you," Arthur said to her, his hands wrapping around his tea cup and the steam filled the air up towards his nose.

"Yup, thanks," Alfred nodded and followed suit, pulling his coffee towards himself which was in a Styrofoam cup. The woman smiled briefly before turning to continue her duties in the cafe. The American took a quick sip of his black liquid and grimaced at how strong it was, and he grabbed a sugar sachet to mix it in. "We got some differences," he said, earning a silent nod from Arthur. "Different sports, language, viewpoints and stuff." He tried another sip, ignoring the feel of his tongue being burned. "Even though baseball is better," he rushed, "I just think it'd be cool if we settle we're different and that none of us is really any better."

"Yes, I suppose," murmured Arthur, his fingers rubbed against his cup as he levelled his breathing. He was a stubborn man but he held back the urge to point out something bitter. He held out his hand in a sign of truce. They shook on it, Alfred's face beaming before Arthur pulled back and began drinking his tea. "My younger brother was, ah, killed by a criminal 11 years ago. The wretch was _American_, believe it or not," he suddenly said, his eyes sliding shut and his whole expression brought forth depressed. "I guess I'm still sensitive about the whole ordeal."

"So…this one American dude kills your bro…and now you hate all of them?" Alfred raised his brows, on the verge of laughing but then the seriousness of the matter made him reconsider his actions. "I'm sorry, but you kinda sound like a gal who thinks all guys are pigs."

Arthur frowned and looked up, his visions he was seeing behind his closed eyelids were gone. How rude of this _American_ to say something like that to him. "You can just leave, thank you very much," he growled, resembling an angry tiger.

"Oh wait, I meant that isn't it kinda over reactin'? I mean, you're blamin' all Americans for something that one insane dude did." Alfred hoped to reason with him, make Arthur see that not all Americans were horrible creatures, but were humans with lives just like him. Not all should be judged the same way. "It's kinda stupid."

There was a reason, and the Arthur could see it but he was reluctant to agree to it. "Yes, it is stupid… but think about it from my perspective, will you?"

Alfred pondered for a short while before he shook his head. "Nah, I'd move on."

"Bastard," muttered Arthur. "Thank goodness I'll never have to see you again." There was a heavy pause before Arthur murmured. "Have you seen the pubs in London?"

Alfred shook his head, smiling. "I'm only 19 so I've never seen 'pubs'. Not allowed to drink back in the states."

Arthur didn't think it was too late to have a new drinking buddy.


End file.
